


Perfect Proposal

by bornonthewrongside



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, One Shot, Second-Hand Embarrassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:56:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3017321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bornonthewrongside/pseuds/bornonthewrongside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark and Sandor Clegane have been together almost two years, so Sandor is ready to propose. He takes the effort to sett up a date at her favorite restaurant and find the perfect ring. Yet, everything goes wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> this is something i've wanted to write for a while, and it felt like the right time,
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Sandor’s hands were turning white as he clutched the steering wheel with a deadly grip. His black tie was on too tight, and he couldn’t breathe. He kept fighting the urge to rip it off because the damned restaurant he made reservations at required formal attire.

“Sandor? Honey, are you alright?” Sansa smiled at him while she played with the ends of her curled hair.

His girlfriend’s beauty never ceased to amaze him; her porcelain complexion was perfectly complemented by her fiery hair and deep blue eyes. He had hit the jackpot when she kissed him for the first time, now he was hoping he could do the impossible and win it again when he asked her to marry him.

_If I ever build up the nerve, that is._ He had been a nervous wreck for the past week, stuttering whenever Sansa asked him a question, jumping at every noise, and constantly checking his pockets because there was no way he was letting the ring out of site.

The ring, gods, the ring. He had Arya go to the jeweler with him, and that was his first mistake. The she devil proved to be almost no help at all, she just kept trying pocket anything that wouldn’t set the sensors off. She just so happened to try to pocket the perfect ring that was accidentally out of a case.

He turned onto another road, and gave Sansa a wry smile, “I’m fine, little bird.”

She let out a laugh, “You can never lie. What’s going on? Is it work?”

Sandor massaged the back of his neck with one hand, and gave out a strained chuckle, “I guess you could say that.”

She placed her hand on his leg and gave a reassuring squeeze, “Well forget about it, because tonight I’m the center of your attention.”

“You always are.” He muttered as he looked for the restaurant on the sides of the street.

When he pulled into the parking lot across from the _Rose Garden_  Sandor had to take a couple moments of breathe before he got out and opened the door for Sansa. When she went for his hand, Sansa pulled back.

“Why is your hand wet?” She wiped her own hand on his jacket.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, and mimicked her motion on his jacket. “A lot on my mind.”

“Well, stop that, and hold my hand, and kiss me.” She smiled up at his scarred face with nothing but love.

“Alright, okay.” He pressed his lips against, prepared a quick peck before they crossed the street, but Sansa had something different in mind. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and locked her lips to his. She danced her tongue with his, as she purred with contentment.

When she pulled back, she had a devious smile on her lips, “We better get inside, and pay way too much for not so good food, before I make you drive back home, and get you into bed.”

“Yeah, we better get inside.” Sandor said quickly. He had to go through with this; he wanted nothing more, but why was he so gods be damned nervous?

As they crossed the busy street, Sansa held onto Sandor’s hand. As they walked inside, she still held on. That’s what she did anywhere they went, a touch of physical contact. A two fingers intertwined, arms interlocked, or holding hands.   _I love to touch her._

When they were seated down, and asked what wine they would like, Sansa answered. He never knew what wine to get, as long as it was alcohol he didn’t care. _Gods, I need alcohol tonight._

Sansa chatted away about family, and friends, and their dog Lady. Sandor was barely hearing anything, he just gave the occasional uh-huh, and yes, dear. His mind was focused on the growing weight in his left pants’ pocket. The ring continued to weigh down on him. His hand kept twirling the box around, waiting for the perfect moment.

As the wine arrived, he reached his arm out immediately, but his hands were so shaky that he knocked the glass over. Red wine spilled over the white table cloth, their china plates, and made it’s want to Sansa’s dress.

“Fuck it all!” Sandor whispered to himself.

“My, you really do have something on your mind, don’t you?” Sansa kept her smile, as they were given a new table. She walked proudly in the restaurant with a large red stain on the stomach of her blue dress.

The waiter gave him a concerned look when he placed the second glass of wine on the second table. When Sandor didn’t spill the wine, the waiter walked away.

“So, you’re really not going to tell me what’s on your mind, sweaty head?” Sansa giggled.

Sandor’s hand reached up to his forehead to feel beads of sweat forming, _oh gods. Why?_ “Maybe I’m getting sick.”

“No, when you get sick you turn white as a sheet, you’re just getting red. So what are you not telling me?” Sansa leaned forward, sipping on her wine.

The waiter appeared, ready to take their orders. Sandor had never been more thankful in his life, “Yes, I would like the Fettucini Pasta with no proposal. _No Parmesan_.”

The waiter gave him a sympathetic smile, and turned to Sansa, “And for you Mrs. Clegane?”

“Oh, we’re not married!” Sandor blurted out.

Sansa glared at him from the across the table and kicked him harshly, “I would like the same as _Mr. Clegane.”_

After the waiter left, Sansa gave the sharpest look Sandor had ever seen, “What is wrong with you? That was so rude!”

“Sorry,” Sandor mumbled behind his wine glass.

While they waited for their food, Sansa kept a close eye on Sandor, but still kept chattering away. Things started to fall back to normal until he heard the familiar laughter of the she devil.

“Sansa! I didn’t know you were going to here!” Arya said from the table she had just been seated at.

“You had _no_ idea?” Sandor asked her with a vicious look in his eye.

“Not one! What a coincidence! Well I’m going to seat here, and eat now.” Sansa was laughing, and Sandor looked like he could commit murder.

After their food was served, Sandor barely ate, knowing that he was going to have to do it soon. But what _really_   didn’t help was Arya at the table next to him, tapping her imaginary watch waiting for him.

After the waiter took away the plates, Sansa ordered dessert and Sandor gazed at her. He was trying to find the right words, and right when he opened his mouth to talk, he inhaled too quickly and began coughing incessantly. When he tried to breathe, more coughs started coming out. It may not have been a big issue, except for the fact that Sandor was a big man.

“You better drink something,” Arya cooed from the next table.

“She’s right,” Sansa said, and handed him his wine glass. “Drink. Now.”

As Sandor drained his glass, he glared at Arya with a new level of hatred. When he could finally breathe again, he started his grand speech:

“Sansa, we’ve been together for almost 50 years, no. We’ve been together for almost 2 years, and I can’t wait to spend the next 50 with you. I want to have lots of cars and pick up kids. No. Damn it! Seven help me. Sansa. Sansa Stark. I love you. I love you. I want to spend my life with you.”

As he started to get on one knee, he underestimated his stature, and accidently knocked the lightweight of the wired table to the ground. A cacophony of crashes filled the restaurant as the glasses fell onto the stone floor. Arya’s laughter was the only noise he heard.

His face grew to the same color as Sansa’s hair, as he stormed out of the dining area to pay for the check, and leave this damned place before anything else could go wrong.

“Sandor! Wait!” His Little Bird’s voice rang in his ears as crashed into a waiter on accident sending food crashing to the floor.

The moment he paid for not only their meal, but also the dishes he broke, the tablecloth he ruined, the table that needed to be repaired, and a hefty tip for their waiter, Sandor darted out of the restaurant.

He was still shaking when he tried to grab his keys from his pocket.

“Sandor! Wait for me!” Sansa’s hand grasped at his shoulder. “So is there anything you want to tell me now?”

“Don’t mock me, Sansa.” Sandor deadpanned.

“I’m not! Please, just tell me.” Sansa gave him a very sincere smile.

“I just wanted to tell you, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’m an old hound, and you’re beautiful bird, and I want to spend my life with you. We’ve been together for almost two years, and I don’t want to stop. You complete me, you better me. I need you. So will you marry me? Will be willing to wake up every morning beside this hound of a man? Because I promise I will never stop loving you. I will never stop trying to better myself for you. Will -” He was cut short by her lips.

“Of course, you big doof. Of course I will marry you.” She tugged onto him for another kiss.

He pulled away, “You knew didn’t you?”

“Arya told me about a week ago, but I knew you wanted to be a surprise.”

“Have I mentioned I want to murder your sister?” He asked with clenched teeth.

“Everyday, now kiss me, and give me my ring.”

**  
They stood there for ten minutes in the middle of the parking lot celebrating their new engagement, before they celebrated in the privacy of their own home.**


End file.
